The Doctor, The Detective, and The Average Joe
by Tobias Torii
Summary: Say goodbye to ordinary, Jaiden! The Doctor shows up to save her friend and then takes her to meet her hero, Sherlock Holmes who decides to join. This is a collection of their adventures (influenced by readers) and I like to think of it as a season of Doctor Who I'm writing. NEVER FEAR! No OC pairing unless the readers deem it acceptable. Read, review, enjoy! (First real crossover)
1. Prologue: Average Joe

**Author's Note: I know that a lot of readers prefer not to have OCs involved but I couldn't resist. It's like a "what would I do if I had the opportunity to meet the Doctor?" I hope you don't mind and I truly am resisting the urge to turn it into an OC/Sherlock thing just because I've loved Sherlock since I started reading the original works by Conan Doyle. Sherlock Holmes is my hero. HOWEVER, I will definitely spare you an OC pairing because I know how annoying that can get (unless, of course, readers tell me to go for it). ONTO THE STORY THEN!**

* * *

I was perfectly normal. Average height (five foot, five inches), maybe a little underweight (one hundred fifteen pounds), with milk chocolate eyes and wine red hair. I didn't get out much, so I was pale and I had a bit of a nervous problem so my nails were short and ragged from chewing them. Just an average nineteen-year-old high school graduate stuck in a part-time, minimum wage job with no way of attaining my dreams; stuck and stagnating in the tiny, troublesome town called Bellefontaine, Ohio. Nothing happened there.

My story starts with me staring out the window of the box office in Chakeres Cinema 8 between the one o'clock and four o'clock sets of movies on a cooler summer day. Locked in my glass box, I didn't bother taking to anyone - didn't care enough to try. I didn't like people that day and I barely managed a smile when I dealt with customers. Sure, I was bored, but humans were just exhausting for me so I enjoyed the quiet solitude.

What happened next seemed normal enough, just someone coming to my window to buy tickets for next set in advance. A fairly tall man, with a slim build, amazing darker brown hair, and when he looked at me, his eyes, the same color as mine, gave me the feeling that he was far wiser than he looked. Oh, but he was handsome in his not-quite-navy blue suit, coal-colored tie, maroon high-tops, and medium brown duster.

He was looking around like he'd never been there before, but he smiled as soon as he was at the window. I turned my headset on and tried to smile back, but I got a strange feeling from him. He was far less "normal" than I was.

"Hello there!" he greeted cheerfully; I noted the accent with which he spoke and immediate assumed him Scottish.

"Good afternoon," I replied, finally managing that smile I was fishing around for.

"I was wondering if you could help me," he continued.

"I'll do my best," I answered.

He pulled a small piece of paper from the pocked of his jacket and slid it through the small opening in my window. The paper simply read "Adrian Wolfe: Manager; Chakeres Cinema 8, Bellefontaine, Ohio (United States)-2014"

"This doesn't have anything to do with movies of our theater, does it?"

He reached into his coat to flip something open in front of the glass.

"John Smith, FBI," he told me.

The paper I was looking at was blank.

"Very funny," I said, "now what do you want?"

Looking confused and surprised, he tucked the paper back into his coat.

"I need to speak with your manager," he answered.

"I'm sorry but now you've got me suspicious and the man you're looking for is my friend, so one of three things is going to happen. One, you'll tell me what you want with Adrian and I'll decide whether or not to call the police. Two, you don't tell me what you want and stick around, guaranteeing that I'll call the police. Or Three, you turn around and walk away," I informed him as coldly as I could manage.

"And what if I want to buy a ticket for the cinema?" he asked, leaning against the small counter outside.

"You're one customer, you're suspicious, and you're asking for my friend. I think I'll tell you to shove it," I answered.

"Brilliant!" he cried as he took to steps back with a grin. "You are a brilliant human being but don't you worry. I assure you that I'm not here to harm anyone."

"How do I know that?" I asked, trying to hide the confusion that his response caused in me; instinct screamed that he can't be trusted but something else, perhaps the empathy, told me to trust this strange man.

He leaned close to the window, looking at me with eyes like my own but much, much older.

"You don't, but something in you wants to trust me and it's right, you should," he replied evenly.

"Who are you really?" I asked, a little unnerved by his perception.

"The Doctor," he answered, "just the Doctor."

"If you can't even tell me your name, how can I trust you? Trust is earned, not given, _Doctor_," I explained, leaning back against the side of the box office and trying to ignore that strange feeling of trust because of how much it went against my instincts.

"I'm sorry but we really don't have time for this, please tell me where your manager is," he said more seriously, his friendly smile fading a little.

"Trade me useful information for useful information, that's my compromise," I said, giving in just a little. "I'll tell you that my name is Jaiden Carlisle since you told me that you're 'the Doctor.'"

"I'm beginning to like you," he told me as his smile found his lips fully again. "If you tell me where to find him around, oh," he checked his wristwatch, "seventeen minutes from now, I'll save his life."

I knew that my eyes must have gotten wide at the statement.

"What do you mean 'save his life?'" I asked a little frantically.

He got serious again.

"In seventeen minutes, Adrian Wolfe will die before his time if I can't find him, save his life, and set things right," he explained _very _quickly.

My heart was pounding in my chest and for a split second, for one moment in my nearly twenty years of life, I had no idea what I would do. I gazed into his wise eyes and my fear and doubt faded. He was completely serious, or he truly believed he was.

"G-give me one moment, Doctor," I requested.

"Just one moment, Jaiden, be swift," he responded.

I quickly turned my headset off and picked up the box office phone to call into the managers' office. It rang once. Twice. Three time. Four.

"Hello?" came a very deep baritone.

"Hello, Jacob?" I replied.

"Hey Jaiden, what do you need?"

"Can I take my break early? I'm starving and a friend of mine-" I couldn't help but to glance the Doctor's way. "A friend of mine just showed up and offered to buy me lunch."

"Um," he went silent, obviously checking something, "Amy is scheduled to be here in twenty-five minutes, can it wait that long?"

"Well, uh," I looked at the Doctor again but he caught me that time and smiled. "I-we haven't seen each other since I graduated nearly two years ago and he really, really want to get lunch."

There was silence for a second or two.

"I'll be out in a minute," he told me, sounding amused.

"Okay, thanks," I replied before hanging up and turning my headset back on. "Doctor?"

"Yes!" he replied.

"Give me one or two minutes. Adrian is usually here around three on Saturdays so," I checked the time on the computer, "fourteen and a half minutes from now he's still driving in from New Carlisle to come to work, I'll show you as soon as I clock out for break."

"Brilliant!"

I heard the office door open to my right and turned my head to see the very tall, very well-built form of my manager emerge. His crystalline blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at me and ran his hand nervously along his bald. That smile lit the feature of his square, strong face, emphasizing the attractiveness of them.

He opened the box office door and glanced out the window, spotting the Doctor. He smiled warmly at him before returning his attention to me. I turned the headset off.

"That your friend?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered, trying not to seem nervous.

"What's his name?"

"John."

"Take an hour today," he said with a chuckle.

"What?" I asked going a little wide-eyed.

"Get caught up. I'm giving you sixty minutes instead of thirty."

"Um, thank you."

"Not a problem; you're a great worker, I figure you've earned it. Now, go clock out."

"Right," I replied grabbing my blue and brown floral Vera Bradley sling and vintage denim jacket.

I rushed to the break room to clock out and was out the door quickly to meet the Doctor who greeted me with his smile.

"I have an hour," I informed him.

"Generous manager," he replied. "Lead on."

I led him across the wide parking lot to the main road out front. I looked to the right, the direction from which Adrian drove into town everyday. Then, I looked at the Doctor, who seemed to be thinking.

"We can't exactly start walking toward the highway," I told him.

"We could," he replied.

"It would draw attention to us since the school down that way isn't in session; no reason for anyone to be walking in its direction," I explained.

"What do you suggest?" he asked me, fixing me with his intelligent, chocolate-colored eyes.

"I'll text him."

I pulled out my smart phone and checked the time; eleven minutes. I began composing a text to Adrian:

**_I hope you at least read this, Adrian. I need you to try to get to the_**

**_Chakeres parking lot in less than ten minutes. I know the request is_**

**_strange but I promise it's important._**

"I told him to that he needs to try to be here in less than ten minutes," I told the Doctor as I shoved my phone into my back pocket.

"Does he text and drive?" he asked.

"No, but he has a hard time not checking his texts. He'll see it," I explained.

Surely enough, six minutes later, Adrian was pulling his forest green Jeep into the parking lot. He parked near us and quickly got out to rush over.

"I got your text," he told me. "Who's this?" he asked, gesturing to the Doctor with his emerald eyes.

"This is, uh, Doctor John Smith. He's a friend of mine," I told him.

My manager ran his hand through his short but thick platinum blond hair. He stood as tall as the Doctor – so he was shorter than Jacob – and he was muscled but slim. Definitely attractive.

"So, what's going on?" he asked, looking between the Doctor and myself.

"We'll find out in a little less than five minutes," the Doctor replied.

"What does he mean?" Adrian asked me with genuine curiosity.

"I don't really know how to explain it to you, I'm not even very sure of it myself, but five minutes-"

"Four," The Doctor interrupted.

"_Four _minutes from now, John is going to save your life. I'm not sure why or how he knows you're going to die nor do I know why or how he's going to save you but I have this feeling that we can trust him," I tried to explain.

"I'll be completely honest, I'm not sure about this 'you're supposed to die in four minutes' thing but I'm even more curious about why I'd be saved from death," Adrian told us.

"You're not _supposed _to die in four minutes, your timeline was altered. The reason I'm intervening is because you're needed in a fixed even later and without you, humanity is doomed," the Doctor explained, talking a mile a minute.

"Doctor, what do you mean humanity is doomed without him?" I asked, stuck in complete shock.

"I can't tell you that, events must play out the way they're meant to," he told us.

"Doctor-"

"A little under three minutes," he interrupted me, calling an end to that conversation.

Adrian and I shared a glance before returning our eyes to the Doctor.

"I don't know about this," he whispered.

"You trust me and I trust him," I replied just as quietly.

"You don't actually know him prior to this, do you?" he asked.

"No, but I read eyes, behavior, and emotion, Adrian. His eyes show me wisdom, kindness, trustworthiness, and..."

"And what?"

_Loneliness. _I thought.

"I think that's a little more private," I said aloud.

"It's terribly impolite to whisper to each other in someone's company," the Doctor scolded, though he sounded more amused than upset.

"Sorry, Doctor," I replied, not bothering to feel embarrassed due to the Doctor's playful tone.

Suddenly, something in my body lurched and a feeling of mindless emptiness washed over me. The empathy was picking up on someone new so I began looking around for the source. As expected, a newcomer was coming up the street toward us; he was tall and frail-looking. The hood of his ash-colored jacket was pulled over his face like a cowl so that his features were hidden in its shadow. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jacket; this man practically screamed suspicious.

"Doctor," I said to get his attention, not taking my eyes off the man coming toward us.

"Yes Jai-" he stared and his abrupt stop told me that he saw the same thing I did.

"I've got a bad feeling about him," I explained.

The Doctor moved so that he was between Adrian and I, standing side by side, and the man approaching us. I watched and my heart pounded in my chest, unsure of how much use I'd be at that point.

The newcomer came to a stop in front of the Doctor but didn't say anything. For a few seconds, the Doctor just looked him over, seeming to size him up before smiling.

"Hello there," he greeted cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor. Who are you?"

There was no response. I figured it wise not to say anything and just let the Doctor handle the situation but Adrian had other ideas.

"Who are you?" he asked the man calmly from his position behind the Doctor.

"You are Adrian Wolfe," the man said suddenly in complete monotone. "You will be deleted."

The man began pulling something from his pocket – I knew it was a gun – and things started moving in slow motion. Of its own accord, my body moved; I shoved Adrian to the concrete and grabbed the back of the Doctor's jacket to pull him from in front of the man so that his posterior met the ground in one fluid motion. In the next, I stepped forward and to the right, pushed the gun hand down by the wrist and held onto it with my left hand. At the same time, I grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it inward toward the man's body, rolling it against his thumb and twisting his wrist. Then, I rolled the handle against his thumb also, twisting the wrist even more until he let it go with a loud yelp. Finally, I took the butt of the gun and slammed it into his temple; he crumpled to the ground.

Panting hard, I stood with the gun in my hand and the attacker unconscious at my feet. Adrenaline was still rushing through my body and it took a moment to reorient my self.

"Jaiden," came the Doctor's voice gently, "put the safety on, at least."

I did as I was told and placed the gun on the ground to kick it away. I knew that my manager saw everything and I knew he'd called the police, I didn't need to be holding a gun when they arrived.

Adrian and the Doctor got to their feet and the Doctor placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you, Jaiden."

I turned and met his eyes.

"Don't mention it," I replied, trying to smile.

Next, the Doctor crouched down next to the unconscious man and pulled his hood back revealing short, graying red hair and what appeared to be bluetooth earpieces.

"Cybermen," I heard him mutter.

Just then, the police sirens came wailing toward us in the distance.

* * *

I had given my statement and been given the rest of the day off of work so as I walked out of the police station I was left unsure of where to go from there. I'd hoped to find the Doctor in or around the station but he was gone. Adrian had gone home but not before thanking me for what I'd done.

The think was, I knew the Doctor had to still be in Bellefontaine. He mentioned "Cybermen" with a tone that said his work wasn't done yet so it was a matter of figuring out where he went.

I reached into my sling and pulled out the only item other than my wallet: my little copy of A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle. I'd read all of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries multiple times and always had on with me. Sherlock Holmes was my hero and I tried hard to master his art of deduction. So, I hugged the book to me and asked myself "what would Sherlock do?"

I replayed my day from the moment I met the Doctor to where I was at that point. He was a traveler, a time traveler if one could open their mind to it, how else could he have known about the future and the alteration of Adrian's timeline? "Cybermen" were likely alien lifeforms or technology considering I'd never heard anything of them and the tone with which he said the word made me think "dangerous" and "problematic."

He was likely somewhere he wouldn't be noticed easily and he surely had a time machine to hide, but he was a little eccentric (judging by his attire) so I just needed to look for something that didn't belong somewhere where it wouldn't be too obvious.

Next, I ran through different places in my mind, trying to find an ideal location for an odd time machine and its owner. He probably ended up close to Chakeres so that he could get there quickly.

I nearly screamed with excitement when it came to me: the pond to the right across the road from the theater! The forested area around it was small but dense, so he could have been there!

Replacing my little book, I took off running down the road because, unfortunately, Chakeres and the police station were at opposite ends of town. I didn't bother to stop at my parents' on the way for clothes, I didn't care and hardly noticed the black slacks and maroon polo. The Doctor was saving the world from here in our tiny town and no one knew the town better than I did.

I got a little over halfway there when I saw the slim form of the Doctor walking in the same direction as me but fairly far ahead so I stopped and filled my lungs with air.

"Doctor!" I yelled with as much volume as I could manage – which was actually a lot.

He stopped and turned toward me so I waved to let him know who yelled before taking off full sprint to catch up. He waited for me and was smiling when I got to him.

"Jaiden, I didn't expect to see you again so soon," he told me while I tried to catch my breath; distance runner, not sprinter.

"Yeah," I managed.

"Need something?" he asked.

I held my index finger up to convey that I needed a moment. He gave it to me and I began taking deep, slow breaths.

"I think I've got it mostly figured out," I told him once I'd recovered, "you're a time traveler and you've discovered something amiss here. You said something about 'Cybermen' which I can only assume are alien in nature so you must travel through space, too. Anyway, these 'Cybermen' are a threat so you're probably going to be here until the threat is taken care of. How am I doing?"

"Very well, but why are you telling me?" he asked.

"I want to help," I answered.

He looked thoughtful, he eyes fixed on me but seeing something in the distance.

"I should probably tell you that the threat isn't actually here," he finally replied.

"Okay. So, where is it?" I asked.

"I'm not sure yet," he informed me. "Walk with me."

He continued in the direction he was going before and I fell into step next to him.

"How do we find it?" I inquired.

"Luckily, the Cybermen pose no immediate threat to Bellefontaine at this point. Upon examining the man, I found evidence of a place called the Void which is the empty space between alternate universes. That means, he's not from here to begin with," he explained in that super fast way of his. "The fact that there is no other evidence of Cybermen activity is promising because that means that they haven't found a constant or reliable way through."

"What should we do?"

"Find a way into an alternate universe and see if we can pick up their trail," he answered with a grin.

"Travel through space and time?"

"Do you still want to help?"

"More than ever!"

* * *

That's how I ended up here, inside and old police call box that's bigger on the inside. I turn in a circle to take it all in, it's nothing like anything I've ever seen before. I run my hand along something that looks like it could be a support beam but it is an abstract shape.

I walk to look at what I assume is the control panel in the center with all the blinking colored lights, buttons, and levers. I run my fingertips along the side as I walk around the colorful circle.

I notice an energy coming from the ship, emotional energy. It – no – she is sentient. And old, even older than the Doctor.

"Doctor, she's beautiful," I tell him, completely awestruck by this wonderful living oxymoron – oh, the logic of machinery and the drive of emotion.

He joins me by the chair where I've stopped in front of the control panel.

"You're very open-minded. Most run outside to compare her interior and exterior size and you've picked up on the fact that she has a soul," he tells me, sounding just slightly surprised but mostly pleased.

"What is she called?" I ask, still breathless.

"A TARDIS: Time And Relative Dimension In Space," he replies.

I lean over the buttons and colors to run my hand along the piece in the center.

"You are very beautiful, TARDIS," I tell her.

The Doctor chuckles and I return to my upright position as an embarrassed blush finds my cheeks. This only makes the Doctor laugh.

"Don't worry, she doesn't tend to receive affection from anyone other than myself so she's probably quite happy," he assures me.

"Good, she deserves it," I reply still a bit embarrassed.

"Now! Where to?" he asks me enthusiastically. "Usually, I'd say 'anywhere you want' but since we have a mission in the alternate universes, try to thing outside the box."

"My parents' to get some clothes?" I suggest, definitely feeling odd in my uniform now.

"I have plenty, even women's, don't worry. You can pick something when we arrive at our destination."

"How should I know where to start?"  
"Well, possibilities become endless with alternate universes, anything goes."

I adjust my sling and it gives me an idea.

"Even fictional settings?"

"Anything's possible."

I open my sling and pull my book out to hand it to him. He takes it and I see the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips.

"I want to meet Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson if it's possible," I tell him.

"Then I know just where to go!" he exclaims excitedly.

He hands me my book which I return to its place in my bag and he begins pushing buttons and flipping switches all over the TARDIS console.

"Hang on to something, Jaiden!"

I take a few steps back and grab the guard rail behind me, shutting my eyes. I hear a strange pulsing sound, likely the sound of the TARDIS engine – it would make sense – and then I feel a slight shift before everything is stable again. The engine keeps going for a few moments and I don't open my eyes until it stops.

"Huh! That was the most smoothly she's run!" the Doctor claims as he looks back at me with a smile. "She must like you."

That makes me smile.

"Oh! When you pick your clothes, think modern!" the Doctor suggests.

"But the stories are set between 1880 and 1914," I inform him with a disbelieving scowl.

"Alternate universe!"

I feel a warmth at his words but when I tune into him, he's giving off enthusiasm and excitement with a darker mix of emotions that are barely there but seem to follow him around.

Then, I tune into the TARDIS, it's coming from her. Maybe she thinks I should trust him on this?

"Where's the closet?" I ask, trying to hide the smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

He points to a doorway at the back of the room, right across from the doors we came in.

"Through there, down the hall, only door on the left. You can't miss it," he answers.

"Thanks."

I walk over and step through the doorway, the doors sliding open to let me into the biggest walk-in closet I've ever seen. I swallow back my awe.

"You said there was a hallway!" I call.

"There isn't one?" he calls back.

"No!"

"Sorry, I must have been thinking of last time!"

_Last time?_

I take a few more steps in and the doors slide closed behind me.

"I don't even know where to start..."

* * *

I finally walk back out having decided on form-fitting khakis that are boot-cut but very flattering on my waist and rear. It's accented with a black leather belt with a floral pattern sewn in bright blue into it. On top, I sport a form-fitting sky blue tee shirt (since my upper body needs more help to be flattering than my lower body) tucked into my pants finished off with a black silk tie around my neck. I have my sling over my shoulder and I hold a black hoodie in my hands just in case I need it.

"What do you think?" I ask to pull the Doctor's attention away from whatever he's doing at the TARDIS control panel.

He turns around and grins when he sees me. I turn in a circle, spreading my arms out a little so that he can see the whole ensemble.

"Well?" I ask.

"A tie and a shirt without a collar?" He asks with a chuckle.

"I'm a rebel," I reply with a grin.

"I like it," he tells me. "Now! Are you ready to meet the greatest detective of all time?"

I run to the doors of the TARDIS and then turn back to the Doctor to grin brightly.

"I'm very, very eager," I inform him excitedly.

He joins me at the doors, seeming to enjoy my energy.

"Well, go on then," he urges.

My hands are practically shaking as I place them against the doors and push them open. I see that we're in an alley; it must be older because it's still cobblestone. Slowly, I step out, my black Converse high-tops tentatively touching the ground and as soon as I'm out of the TARDIS I recognize the difference in energy between this place and my home.

The Doctor walks in front of me having closed and locked the TARDIS doors.

"Let's see if he's home, we're only a street away from Baker Street," he says, leading the way.

I follow loyally, a little overwhelmed but brimming with excitement at the prospect of meeting my hero. He leads me out onto a road that looks much more modern and we cross it together. We walk by some older-looking but well cared for buildings until we come to the next street which I see is Baker Street. We turn left and walk quite a way before we see the mailboxes for 221A and 221B Baker Street. My heart leaps a little at the sight.

We approach the door labeled 221B and the Doctor knocks firmly. Moments later, and elderly woman with feathered, silvery red hair and kind eyes opens the door with a friendly smile.

"Oh, hello," she greets kindly.

"Hello Miss. Are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in?" the Doctor inquires returning her kind smile with one of his own.

"Yes, they are," she replies. "Are you here with a case?"

"We're just visiting," I answer with a wide smile.

"Sherlock and I have met before; we worked a case together when he was just starting out," the Doctor adds.

"Oh! Do come in!" the woman says happily.

We follow her into the small, quaint flat and she turns back to us.

"Who should I tell them is visiting?" she asks us.

"The Doctor and his companion Jaiden Carlisle," he answers.

She turns and continues up a set of stairs while the Doctor and I wait by the door.

"You've met him already?!" I exclaim in a whisper.

"You aren't the only one who's a fan," he replies, also whispering.

"Is he excellent?" I ask.

"At what he does, yes. With people, not really," he answers.

"What about Watson?"

"They hadn't met yet."

"Really?!"

"Come on," he demands, suddenly speaking at regular volume as he starts up the stairs.

"Shouldn't we wait?" I ask, stepping onto the first step and stopping.

"Sherlock won't send for use, he'll be expecting me to barge in," he replies.

"Why?" I ask, quickly catching up.

"Because he and I share that trait.

We step through the open door at the top of the steps into a comfortable sitting room. Standing in the center is the elderly woman who greeted us at the door and the two chairs in the room are each occupied by a man.

One of them stands up immediately, his tall, slender frame commanding authority with its perfect posture. His gray-blue eyes shine with intelligence and his curly mess of dark hair brings out the finer features of his elvish face. He's dressed nicely, lack suit and a white button-down shirty with the top two buttons left undone, no tie. I find him breathtakingly handsome and I know immediately who he is.

"Sherlock Holmes," I breath, earning a soft chuckle from the Doctor who is the only one close enough to hear me.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'd like to speak with our guests privately," he says with stunning deep baritone in a way that made the statement a command.

"Alright, Sherlock, I'll be in my flat," she replies before walking past us with a friendly smile to go back down the stairs.

"Would it kill you to be a little more polite to her?" asks the other man who I assume is Doctor John Watson.

He stands, shorter than Sherlock and built more like a soldier. His close haircut and stiff posture solidifies the fact that he was a military doctor at one point. He looks a little older and his face is more worn but there is a youthful energy in his gray eyes. He's a little more casually dressed in nice jeans and a dark blue button-down with only the first button left open.

John approaches us and offers his hand to the Doctor who shakes it eagerly.

"You must be John Watson!" he exclaims. "I'm Doctor John Smith, you can call me the Doctor."

"Pleasure to meet you," John replies, moving to hold his hand out to me.

"I'm Jaiden Carlisle," I tell him as I take his hand and shake it as firmly as I can manage.

"Now that we're all introduced," Sherlock interjects, "I'd like to know why you've returned after such a long time, Doctor."

"Ah, I was just bringing a friend to meet the great Sherlock Holmes and his trusted assistant and blogger Doctor John Watson," he replies easily.

Sherlock gives me a once-over before returning his attention to the Doctor.

"I'm not impressed."

_Oh no you didn't!_

I approach him and walk a circle around him, making observations and hoping I don't end up making a fool of myself. I stop to meet his eyes and start talking.

"Perfect posture with your nose in the air at anyone who hasn't earned your respect, you're arrogant but it's almost justifiable by your intelligence which is made obvious by the way your eyes move to examine each detail of anything new to your environment. You know the Doctor previously, but he tole me that. However, you seem to have a grudging respect for him underlined by your lack of reluctance to speak to him with familiarity but you become a little more stiff in his presence so perhaps you've concluded that his intelligence is on par with or greater than your own. You're dressed well, likely expecting a case seeing as you're the type of man to not usually care about your appearance in the privacy of your home."

I take a step into his space, barely an inch from his body and making sure that my energy commands respect.

"How did I do, Mr. Holmes?"

The Doctor whistles from behind me and I watch the corner of the detective's mouth twitch; an almost smile? I keep my eyes locked with his and the room is deadly silent for a moment. I step back and hold my hand out to him. He looks down at it but takes it without hesitation.

"Sherlock Holmes," he says.

I shake his hand firmly, trying to keep my own smile off my face.

"Jaiden Carlisle, it's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

**Sorry, I love to get into as much detail as I can with scenes and appearances! I almost made this Chapter One but figured it'd be better for Sherlock to be more involved in the first chapter so I made it the Prologue since I do so love character background. I like to build up a story as much as I can. Let me know what you think and whether or not I should continue.**

**Any requests for adventures are welcome, I'm so prone to writer's block so the help would be nice!**

******P.S. Chakeres Cinema 8 is an actual movie theater in Bellefontaine, Ohio and all of the characters mentioned there are based on actual people that I work with. By the by, Amy (not her real name) is my best friend and may make an appearance later. :)**


	2. Episode One: Friends?

**Author's Note: **

***First order of business: writer's block is evil.**

***That aside, I'm really upset at myself as I realized I didn't talk about Jaiden's boots last chapter. They're based on a pair that I used to own and I do believe I give a short description in this chapter.**

***I feel that this chapter seems rushed and I apologize in advance as I dealt with bouts between writer's block and my head swimming with too many ideas at once.**

***It took forever and I'm sorry for that but I give you, CHAPTER ONE!**

* * *

It's been a few days since our arrival in this alternate London and I've been "placed in the care of John Watson" as of the day before yesterday. Apparently, the Doctor's on a trip and needs me somewhere safe. Usually, I'd argue with something like that but how could I say "no" to getting to watch Sherlock Holmes and John Watson work instead of running around with the Doctor looking for signs of an invasion?

So, John has allowed me to help him search for a case that the very fidgety Sherlock might be interested in. I've got the job of looking through newspapers but everything I've found and suggested has been met with "boring" or "too easy."

John has the same task as me but he's been using his laptop and is being met with the same lack of success. It seems that Sherlock can't find anything interesting today and, frankly, he's starting to get on my nerves. He is just being so... Obnoxious.

"Anything yet, John?" Sherlock asks for what seems like the thousandth time today.

"Plenty, Sherlock," I inform him before John can answer, "you're just being picky."

Suddenly, he's off the couch, stepping onto the coffee table, and making his way to plant himself in front of me, his navy dressing gown flowing out behind him to show off his pajamas. He crouches in front of me and I watch his eyes flick about to take in every detail of me he can find, the gears of his mind nearly visibly turning.

So, I throw up a newspaper to separate me from his eyes.

"Shut up, you're thinking too loud," I tell him, purposely using a phrase I've heard him say before.

He stands up again.

"Judging by-"

"Sherlock! I know you're bored but could you _please _shut up and stop fidgeting for more than five freaking minutes? And yes, I'm flustered and annoyed but that's _your_ doing. You already know that, though, so I'll put it this way:"

Standing up, I step into his space to lock eyes with him.

"Shut up or I'll dislocate your lower mandible so that you _can't _talk."

Silence falls for a moment before John clears his throat, bringing our attention to him. He shifts a little under our combined gaze.

_Oops._

Deep breath, kind smile.

"I'm sorry, John. We got out of hand."

Sherlock then fixes me with an "excuse me" look.

"We did," I tell the consulting detective, "so, to make it up, I'll treat everyone to brunch."

They both look a little surprised.

"I _have_ money and I already exchanged it for the currency here so, brunch?"

John stands with a warm smile but Sherlock returns to his couch to flop down on it.

"I'm not hungry," he says simply.

"Oh good, he's going to pout," I tell John.

"I am _not _pouting!"

"What is it then?"

"Retiring to my Mind Palace."

"So pouting. That's find, have fun acting like a child."

That said, I take John's hand and lead him from the flat before the detective can retort.

* * *

I find myself completely distracted while John happily enjoys his meal in the small cafe he and Sherlock frequent. Not even remembering what I'd ordered or paying enough attention to figure it out, my fork just aimlessly pushes the edible substance around my plate.

He's not quite how I'd imagined him, much more childish. I expected him to get bored and even expected impatience but he's like a spoiled child who whines and pouts when he doesn't get his way. In a way, I feel cheated. Is that man really the Sherlock Holmes who's been my hero since I was a child? I suppose this is why they say you shouldn't meet your heroes, they're never what you expect them to be.

"Jaiden?" comes John's voice.

My eyes meet his and his concern is apparent.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was."

"What's on your mind?"

With a sigh, I can only shrug.

John folds his hands and rests them on the table between us. He looks out the window for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts, but it's brief and he focuses back on me shortly.

"He's a good man, he just very... Different," he begins.

"Definitely," comes my reply.

"Don't think poorly of him yet, he hasn't had the chance to surprise you."

"Surprise me?"

"He surprises everyone. He's hard to manage, especially when he's bored, but he's really not as bad as he tries to lead people to believe."

"I can kind of see that. However, I thought I'd earned his respect but it's becoming clear that I've only scratched the surface in that department."

He looks at his hands with a smile.

"What?"

"He respects you, he just has a very odd way of showing it and, if you get to know him, you'll definitely see that he treats you differently than other people," he explains with restrained laughter in his voice.

"You'll have to explain that one," I inform him with a tone of confused disbelief.

"Think about it, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Sighing, my eyes find my plate of food again, but I look right through it. John seems reliable enough and I can't help but to believe that there is truth in his words; I only wish I understood Sherlock a little better. It seems to me, however, that no one really does, except for maybe John.

_John._

"You're his only real friend, aren't you?" I ask.

"Seeming a little surprised by my question, he thinks for a moment before answering.

"I think so."

"He's different with you in comparison to other people."

"I saved his life once," he replies, seeming to get a little uncomfortable.

Sensing this discomfort, I decide it best to let that train of thought go.

"I'm glad he has a friend like you. He probably has a hard time making friends and I think that it would be foolish of me not to take your advice because it's obvious enough to me that he's capable of being a good friend. He can care for someone else."

Nodding, seemingly unsure what to say, John returns his attention to his plate and I'm left to smile slightly to myself.

And then Sherlock walks in.

He comes right to the table without having to look for use and stands next to me so I manage to smile at him.

"You usually sit across from John?" I ask.

"Yes, would you-?"

"I don't mind," I interrupt, sliding over on the booth to make room.

Sherlock sits and I look out the window next to me so that they can talk but John clears his throat to draw my attention back.

John is looking at Sherlock expectantly and the younger man _actually _yields under that gaze, looking away from his assistant to fix those intelligent eyes on me.

"I'd like you to find a case," he says to me.

"John and I spent all morning trying to find one for you," is my cautious reply.

"It's not for me."

"Then who am I finding a case for?"

"You and John."

Staring at the consulting detective, I wait for the sarcastic punchline; he just sits and looks at me expectantly.

"You're serious?" I finally ask and then I look at John who seems just as surprised as me. "He's serious?"

"Completely," is the answer.

"You can do that?" I ask looking back at him.

"Sherlock-" John tries.

"I'll supervise," the other man interrupts, turning his attention to the former army doctor.

"Is that really such a good idea?" I chime in.

"Are you going to turn it down?" he asks, not even looking at me.

Opening my mouth with the full intention of saying "yes, I'm going to turn it down," I'm surprised by an interruption.

"Give yourself a moment to think," he says, finding my chocolate pools with his gray-blue orbs.

At that, I bite my lip and turn my attention out the window again. Would the Doctor approve? Is it a good idea? More importantly, what is this man's motive? Is he trying to be nice? Is this his way of putting me in my place by comparing intelligence in the field? Of course he's smarter than I am, he must know that. I can't get a read on him, empathy really only works when the other party feels something. Maybe it's an experiment?

"What are your motives, and please don't try to lie; I can always tell when someone is lying," comes my voice suddenly, the need for information getting the best of me.

"You tell me," is his reply.

"I can't seem to read you, you've offered no clues, emotional or otherwise."

"Look harder and use your head, you've proven that you're perfectly capable of it."

My curiosity and disbelief are replaced with frustration. Glaring into those knowing eyes I can't help but to speak my thoughts.

"You annoy me."

A slight smile plays at his lips when he replies.

"But you love a good mystery, don't you? And, as far as you can tell, I'm a living, breathing mystery."

"Then I've found my case, haven't I?"

"You're obstinate."

"You're full of yourself."

"Will you two stop!" John finally interjects.

On a whim, I'm climbing over the back of the booth to the empty one behind it and storming toward the cafe door.

"Jaiden, where are you going?" John calls getting up to catch me.

"Back to the flat to find the sociopath a case so that he'll leave me the Hell alone!"

I make sure the door slams shut behind me before John can follow me out. Then, I'm running into the flat and finding a room to lock myself in. I collapse to the floor against the door with a sigh, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the gateway that separates me from them.

That man is overwhelming. I didn't realize how badly he would wear on my nerves. When I read his stories, I saw his relationship with John Watson and all of the amazing things they did together but I didn't really care to think of how he would be with other people. His mind is one of observation and deduction, a strictly logical mind that must surely see emotion as a hindrance.

I stand, ready to abandon my hiding place but I change my mind when I look around at the nearly bare bedroom. The only thing to adorn the walls is a framed poster of the periodic table on the wall next to the perfectly made, full-sized bed. Must be Sherlock's room.

_Time to investigate._

First, the dresser against the wall opposite the door. Upon closer inspection, it turns out to be real wood, likely oak, with a glossy dark finish. The nicks and scratches in the finish prove me wrong since the wood beneath is a deep red, so it's cherry. Expensive, but not properly cared for so he must not give a damn about it. Sad, considering it's probably antique. As a compromise to myself, I decide to check and see if there's anything obviously amiss in the drawers but I won't be digging through clothes: top drawer appears to be socks, second is underwear (lovely), the third: pajamas, and the fourth is empty. The ornate dresser is a little out of place in his very plain, very bare room. Gift from the family?

Moving on to the closet to the left of the dresser. There's nothing special here, just nice shirts, pants, jackets, and on the floor are a couple pairs of shoes.

He's tidy and organized but cares little for possessions unrelated to his work. As expected, sentimental value doesn't appear to mean much to him. It's almost depressing.

Feeling unaccomplished, I plop down on his bed with a sigh, my eyes falling onto his little bedside table. An unremarkable object, not expensive like the dresser and also fairly new. My hand seems to move on its own, drawn to the little knob on the front of the singular drawer. It slides open easily but all that's in it is a cell phone. It's also unremarkable, but the fact that it's all alone in the drawer of a nightstand that has nothing on it says that it holds some sort of importance.

_Part of an important case, perhaps?_

There's only one logical way to do: turn it on. I'm met with failure, so I check for the battery; it's present. The phone is nonoperational so what's the point of having it?

_A memorable case?_

I set the phone back in where I found it and find myself surprised when the bottom of the drawer shifts a little. The rest of the drawer didn't move so I admit to the possibility of a false bottom.

Automatically, the phone is on top of the small table and the black pocket knife comes out of my knee-high, loosely-cut, ebony leather boot. The blade is flicked open to carefully pop the false bottom free and set it on the bed next to me; knife is flicked closed and put back into its hiding place. Underneath sits a photo of a raven-haired woman with striking sky-colored eyes reflecting some intelligence and a sort of unidentifiable hunger. She's beautiful and everything about her screams "interesting." When I pick the picture up and turn it over, the words "The Woman" written carefully on the back confirm my suspicion.

_Irene Adler: the only woman he's ever loved._

Talk about timing because just as I'm about to replace everything, the slight squeak of the hinges on the door tells me that someone's entered the room. I don't turn to look as my hands shake a little while they're holding the image of Irene.

"Sherlock?'

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

_Damn._

"I think so."

His footsteps warn me of his approach before he sits next to me. Avoiding his eyes, I hold the picture out to him.

"Put it where you found it," he tells me.

Doing as I'm told, the photo makes it back into the drawer, the false bottom is replaced, the phone ends up where it started, and the drawer is pushed back in. Everything is as I found it.

We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us really sure what to say. I know, however, that this is the chance to make some sort of connection.

"Who is she?" I finally ask.

I'm met with silence.

"I won't tell anyone," I try.

Nothing.

When I finally look up at him, he's staring at his hands with a faraway look, so I cover them with mine; that gets his attention.

"You're a great man, Sherlock," is how I choose to start, "you've accomplished many things so far and I'm certain you'll go on to do even more. And, you're smart, you're so, so smart, and I know you know that." I take my hands from his before I go on. "What I'm trying to say is there's nothing wrong with you having one or two things that you _really _care about in life and I promise to never tell a soul if that's what you need me to do."

"I don't really want to talk about it in detail but I find you oddly trustworthy and, therefore, I have no objection to the knowledge you've obtained," is his thoughtful, and a bit surprising, reply.

"Do you think you'll ever want to talk about it?"

"Not in detail, no."

"I understand."

"However, ask questions and I _may_ answer. For example, you asked me for her name; it's Irene Adler."

I can't help my chuckle.

"That's unlike you."

"You empathize with people easily."

"So?"

"So, adding that to the strange way that I trust you, you could be the only person that I find myself able to talk to about her."

"You have John."

He chuckles at that.

"He does more than enough for me and I'm a difficult man to understand."

"John cares enough that he'd try and, even if he couldn't, he'd listen. From what I can tell, he's always willing to listen to you, even when you're being a complete ass."

This makes him look thoughtful.

"Speaking of, where is he?" comes my question when I realize that he must not have come in with Sherlock.

"He's taking a walk."

"You pissed him off, didn't you?"

"I may have."

We both laugh a little at that, though his is more restrained.

Standing up and stretching, I offer him one more smile.

"I'll get out of your hair now. May take a stroll to see if I happen upon the Doctor wandering around somewhere."

"If you see John, tell him that I told you that he's fond of you," Sherlock requests.

"He's what?" is my bewildered reply.

"He enjoys your company, likely because you're someone who understands people very well. He seems to be developing a fatherly protectiveness over you," he answers.

"He didn't actually say any of that did he?"

"No, but do you doubt my observations?"

My smile can't be stopped.

"Well, I'm fond of him, too, and you're beginning to grow on me."

"This may sound odd but do you consider us friends? I've never really thought about what makes people decide that they're friends with each other."

"I think we're getting there," is the answer I choose, "I'd like us to be friends but I'm not one to push. Take your time and feel free to call me 'friend' when you're ready."

* * *

The TARDIS isn't in the alley where we landed when we first arrived and that irks me a little. He takes me to a completely different universe and then ditches me, leaving me in the care of a sociopath and a former military doctor who, honestly, may as well be gay for each other; it just seems like a messed up situation. I mean, how long does he plan on leaving me here? What exactly is he off looking for? Most importantly, why am I excluded after he told me I could help?

My feet find their way onto the spot where I had last seen the wonderful blue box and my eyes turn up to London's every-gray sky.

"You're a long way from home," I inform myself aloud.

It takes me a moment to gather my courage and wander back out onto the main roads. Just as I'm ready to return to the flat, I hear the TARDIS engine down the road and I run in the direction of the sound. As expected, it lands in another alley and the door begins to open as I turn into said alley.

As soon as the Doctor is in the doorway, my body hits him full speed and he has to steady himself as my arms wrap tightly around him, my face buried in his chest. It takes a moment, but he returns the embrace.

"I got a message on the psychic paper. You _really _wanted me to come back, yeah?"

A slight nod is the only reply I can manage.

"I'm sure you're going to ask me where I was."

Another nod.

"I got a tip on some Cybermen activity from a friend. Unfortunately, it was on a planet that was too dangerous for me to feel comfortable taking you with me and I thought you'd enjoy having time to get to know the Baker Street duo. Was I wrong?"

He sounds a little concerned, probably my reaction.

"I think the reality of my situation is finally setting in," I willingly explain as I loosen my grip but don't let go.

His chuckle reverberates in his chest, offering me some comfort, and he gives a gentle squeeze.

"Culture shock, that's perfectly normal!"

"Did you find them? The Cybermen, I mean."

"There was activity but they aren't coming from there. My friend and I have taken care of the invasion from that front. Have you noticed anything here?"

"It's been perfectly quiet since we got here."

"It may be time to move on, then."

Finally letting go of him to step back, our similarly-colored eyes meet.

"Can we wait until tomorrow morning?"

He seems unsure of my request.

"Why wait?"

"I want to say 'goodbye' to John and Sherlock."

This causes the Doctor to smile at me.

"You're getting along with Sherlock?" he asks.

"We've come to an understanding," I answer cautiously.

"Well, then, we'll leave tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Doctor."

I let him out of the TARDIS so that he can close the door and he holds his hand out to me with his warm smile. Taking it, I lead him back toward Baker Street. He talks animatedly about ideas he has for finding and stopping the Cybermen threat but I'm only half listening.

While I'm happy that we're going to be making progress with the Cybermen, I'm not so sure how I feel about leaving here before I've earned Sherlock's friendship. It's become important to me and I think John believes it's a good idea, too. It feels wrong to leave already, but I didn't come along to make friends, I know that, I'm here to save my world from an invasion.

"Jaiden?" comes that familiar Scottish accent to pull me from my thoughts.

"Yeah?" is how I choose to let him know that he has my attention.

"You're thinking an awful lot," he informs me.

"I do that pretty frequently."

"What are you thinking about?"

"I don't really know," I tell him in the hopes of avoiding further questioning.

I can feel his eyes on me and I know he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't say anything else about it.

We reach the flat and I lead the Doctor into the sitting room where we find Sherlock and John. Sherlock is on his feet as soon as we walk in but John just looks up from his laptop to greet us with a smile.

"Good evening!" is the Doctor's enthusiastic greeting even though it's technically late afternoon.

Sherlock looks wary, more so than when the Doctor and I first showed up. I can see his mind working as his eyes take in every detail of the two of us.

Pale eyes, greener in this light, meet chocolate and the silent question passes between them: "you're leaving?"

It only takes the slightest nod for him to understand and he sits back down in his chair, his hands together and his eyes closed; he's thinking.

My attention turns to John who is looking curiously between Sherlock and I, then to the Doctor who also seems to have noticed the exchange. Eager to pull attention from it, I clear my throat and both the Doctor and, more importantly, John turn their attention fully to me. Sherlock, however, already knows what I'm going to say and ignores it.

"Um, the Doctor and I are on a sort of mission, that's why we came here. However, this mission calls our attention to other places and we're going to have to leave very soon-"

"And by 'very soon' she means tomorrow morning," Sherlock tosses in without moving.

"Unfortunately," is the only reply I can come up with.

"Lots of work to do and as much as we'd like to stay, we have very important matters that are in need of our attention," adds the Doctor, seeming to note the tension.

"We don't need an explanation, I didn't expect you to stay long and I already shared this fact with John," Sherlock replies. "I think it's wise that you should leave before you bring trouble here, Doctor."

It isn't his choice of words or the bluntness of the statement that surprises me, it's the venom that drips from his tone. Open contempt isn't something I'd think to expect from Sherlock Holmes because there isn't much that gets to him enough to trigger such a response. He doesn't like the Doctor, that much was obvious from day one, but this is completely unexpected and I can feel John's surprise, too.

"Sherlock?" the war veteran and I question together.

The Doctor approaches the fireplace and leans against the mantle.

"You're a clever man, Sherlock Holmes, but your backwards thinking on this matter is inconvenient and upsetting to those around you. What if I told you," he begins as he starts to pace the room, "that the 'trouble' doesn't follow me, but that it's the other way around?" He stops in front of Sherlock's chair, causing the consulting detective to open his eyes and look at the man. "What if I were to say to you 'I go where the trouble is?'"

"I'd have to wonder how you'd expect me to believe that you follow it when it always occurs _after_ your arrival," he replies with a look in his eyes that is colder and harder than steel.

The Doctor chuckles and moves to make himself comfortable on their sofa before saying "things you couldn't even begin to understand."

This brings Sherlock instantly to his feet and all of a sudden I feel him fuming with a rage so thick I find it hard to breathe, though it doesn't show on his face, only in the stiffness of his posture.

"Explain to me what happened to the last girl you had traveling with you, then. Her name was Rose Tyler if my memory serves, and it always does, and she seemed more devoted to you than Miss Carlisle is. So, tell me, did something happen to her while you were 'looking for trouble?' I know that she didn't just decide one day that she didn't want to follow you anymore, she was much too infatuated with you to have done that."

The Doctor's eyes get cold and that scares me.

"She's safe."

"'The Doctor lies,' you've said it yourself."

"I had her stay put."

"Not if you had a choice." Sherlock moves to stand threateningly over the Doctor. "You fell in love with her, wouldn't have given her up for anything if you had actually been given a choice."

Suddenly, the Doctor's on his feet, too, and one set of cold, intelligent eyes is staring down another but neither man says anything.

I can feel their rage and their hatred for one another, though. Hot and thick, it fills the room and I feel like I have to gasp for every breath I take.

"Stop!" John's voice suddenly cuts through the silent tensions as he also stands, drawing the attention of both of the other men.

His presence has never been more commanding as he looks between the battling intellectuals for a moment before he looks at me. His glance leads two other pairs of eyes to me. The Doctor and John, their eyes soften and I realize that I'd begun shaking under the stress of my empathy at some point before. Sherlock, though, his eyes stay cold and his eyes are the ones that hold mine because, at this moment, I find myself more frightened of him that I've ever been of anything in my life.

There is no humanity in him right now and that terrifies me.

I continue suffocating under his gaze because, suddenly, there's not emotion to draw on and, as an empath, I need to draw on positive energy after so much negativity to balance myself. There's nothing coming from him.

Why can't I look away? John, the Doctor, anyone but this inhuman being before me. I can't force myself to try to draw energy from elsewhere, I keep trying to get a read on him. Why?

"Stop," I hear myself say. "Stop looking at me like that."

That's when the Doctor comes between him and I and pulls me into a comforting embrace. My arms wrap around him eagerly as he makes it easier to breathe. Knees shaking a little, I breathe heavily, my burning lungs greedily sucking in oxygen.

"Is she alright?" John's voice asks.

"She's fine," answers the Doctor.

"Panic attack?" is John's next question.

"A very special sort. She's a very special kind of human."

"What do you mean?"

"She has a deep connection to empathy that is nearly extinct in the human race now."

A door slams somewhere.

"I should go talk to him." John's voice again.

"No, let him think." The Doctor.

"Tired," I decide to interject.

"Where can I put her?" the Doctor asks.

"I've been making her a bed on the couch."

Before I know it, I'm tucked into my makeshift bed and fading fast.

* * *

Bleary eyes blink open as I find myself conscious and mostly coherent. The pale light coming through a crack in the curtains tells me it's early but I end up sitting up anyway. My mind turns to yesterday and the argument between the Doctor and Sherlock. I remember how afraid I was of him in that moment, how his lack of humanity and emotion completely terrified me. But, then I remember our conversation in his bedroom, when we talked a little about Irene and how he said he had the feeling he could trust me.

_"Things you couldn't even begin to understand."_

"Maybe he should be given the chance," I decide aloud. "Maybe his growth depends on him being given a chance."

That said, my blanket is tossed aside and my feet find the floor. No time to stretch, I hurry to Sherlock's room and knock on the door. When there's no response, I knock again. Impatient, I just open the door and stride in to find him sleeping. The surprise I feel surely comes from the fact that I'd nearly forgotten that this man _does _sleep.

Before I tiptoe to his bedside, the door is closed behind me. Something inside me hesitates about waking him, he even looks thoughtful when he's sleeping with his eyebrows slightly knitted together like that.

_Cute..._

Shaking that thought away, I touch his shoulder to shake him awake but his eyes open right away, making me jump with surprise.

"Sherlock?"

He sits up and looks at me sleepily.

"Jaiden."

Silence hangs in the air between us. Not even five minutes ago, I was certain of what I wanted to do but, now that I'm here, I have no idea how to approach the subject.

"What-"

"Come with us," I blurt out.

"Go with you," is his unsure reply to my ungraceful request.

"Yes, the Doctor will always hang your lack of understanding over your head and he's right: you don't understand. Hell, _I _still don't understand; this is the first place I've traveled to with him.

"There are things out there that neither of us will be able to comprehend until we've seen them with our own eyes. The Doctor is a gift to people like us, people who constantly seek usable knowledge and understanding. We have an opportunity here if we're willing to take a chance. Come with me on this journey, this adventure; become a student of the universes and learn with me," is my speech, the speech I surprise myself giving.

"What of John?"

"He can come, too."

"No," he answers firmly.

"Why not?" is my surprised and confused question.

"The Doctor _is _danger, whether or not he sees it that way and though I don't know where the man goes or what he does, I know that he defies all of our logic. I can't risk John."

_He cares._

"I understand," I tell him. "So, come with us once and you can decide if you'll come again and if John should join us after."

"I can't leave my work here."

"Time travel, Sherlock! It exists and the Doctor is capable of it! You could be with us for days and still be back for tea this afternoon!"

The look of surprise and disbelief on the man's face brings a smile to mine. He knows I'm telling the truth, one does not simply lie to Sherlock Holmes, so what comes next will be intrigue.

He fixes me with those intelligent eyes, looking for a sign that I'm lying to him. We stare at each other for a while, he searching for answers and I watching him think.

"Pack a bag and meet me outside in ten minutes or less if your answer is 'yes.' If it's 'no,' please come and tell me 'goodbye' in the same allotted time. I don't want to keep the Doctor waiting too long."

As I turn to leave, I feel his slender fingers around my wrist which brings me to an abrupt halt.

"Yesterday I-"

"Don't," I interrupt, "it's fine, I'm fine. In the moment, I was afraid; having had time to think, all I had to do was think of our talk in here. I was afraid of your lack of emotion, and I thought of you as inhuman and that was wrong of me. If anything, I need to apologize. You may be different from me, but you're still human and to think of you as otherwise is an insult."

"Look at me and tell me that you're alright."

The request is odd, he's definitely full of surprises, but I turn and I meet his eyes.

"I'm not afraid, Sherlock."

His eyes search mine for a moment before he lets me have my wrist back.

"I'll see you in ten minutes with an answer."

With a nod of understanding, I depart.

* * *

I explained what I knew about the Doctor and his TARDIS during our walk but Sherlock still stands in her doorway in wide-eyed wonder with a tinge of disbelief. With a smile, I take the hand that isn't carrying his suitcase and gently guide him inside.

"She's magnificent, isn't she?"

"It-"

"She."

"Yes, _she _goes against everything I thought I knew."

"Welcome to opening your mind. Can we agree that she is humbling for now?"

"Very much so."

"That's a start."

"Jaiden!" calls the Doctor's voice from under the platform around the TARDIS console.

"I'm here, Doctor! I brought a guest, is that alright?"

"That would depend on who it is!"

_Oh no..._

The Doctor climbs from under the platform, glances in the direction of Sherlock and myself, and returns to what he was doing before.

"No."

"Why not?"

"He'll get in the way. People like him are close-minded and refuse to accept what they don't understand or, in his case, what he doesn't find 'useful,'" he explains.

"So, we should open his mind and help him understand," is my argument.

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Doctor," Sherlock interjects, seeming a little frustrated, "I seek understanding."

"No, I'm certain you don't," comes the Doctor's reply from under the platform.

"Please, Doctor."

This surprises me and seems to get the Doctor's attention; he comes back out from under the platform to approach us.

"Give me the best reason why I should take you with us as you can manage, Sherlock Holmes. Why should I take the Reichenbach Hero with me to see the splendors of what's out there?"

"'The Reichenbach Hero?'" he and I ask together.

"You'll see."

_Sherlock's future?_

"I..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know how you go about choosing who you take with you but it's obvious that I'm not on the list of candidates. Perhaps my mind isn't open enough, but how can you or even I judge what I am capable of in a case like this until I've been given the chance to try? As a man who prides myself on my ability to observe and to put together the pieces of puzzles that most others are incapable of, it would be foolish of me to overlook the opportunity to try my hand at things that are beyond me. Perhaps it's time for me to be at my wit's end and humbled by experiences that I cannot control."

"You'll have to do everything I say when I say it without question. Can you manage that?"

"I can."

"Admit to my superior intellect," says the Doctor with a perfectly straight face, but I can tell he's joking and I think Sherlock can, too.

"No," the detective replies.

"Well, the speech was still impressive coming from you. Fine, welcome aboard the TARDIS," says the Doctor with a smile in my direction.

_Apparently, he's going to try to play nice._

I'm relieved.

* * *

***Sherlock's room is a mix of what I saw in BBC ****Sherlock**** and my video game ****The Testament of Sherlock Holmes.**** Great game, by the way; I highly recommend it.**

***Still resisting OC/Sherlock until/if I have reader permission but I'm making sure that it could be a possibility just in case. XD**

***Remember, reviews are love!**

***Chapter/Episode ideas are LOVE X 1,000,000!**


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